Merlin? Oh, You Mean Guinevere
by hopelina
Summary: This story has the same main plot as Merlin, only it has some major twists. Merlin and Guinevere are the same person, and that person is a prideful Guinevere. Lancelot is a dragon who can take on humanoid form. There's a love triangle between Lancelot, Guinevere, and Arthur, with Guinevere stuck in the middle. To learn more, read it and see what else this story has in store.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin!**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

Magic. It's performed by reaching into Gaia (the heart of this world), pulling out her spirit energy (which resides in all living things), and using said spirit energy to do wonders.

xXx

I am Guinevere, servant in the royal household of Camelot. I am the personal servant of Prince Arthur (who might I add is mighty arrogant, "Once and Future King" or not). No one would suspect that I were to ever practice magic. After all, magic is forbidden in Camelot, on penalty of death, and I am in the heart of Camelot: the most dangerous place in the world for a sorceress like me. Why would I even think of practicing magic in a place like this? One might find the answer to that if they were to ask the humanoid dragon who led me here.

Said dragon's name is Lancelot. He's the one who convinced me that I have a great destiny where I help create a peaceful Albion - an Albion where those with magic and those without magic can live together in harmony. According to this prophecy, I'm going to fulfil my destiny by protecting The Once and Future King by any means possible, even if those means are using magic. This leads me to my current dilemma: The Once and Future King is Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot.

I remember the first time I saw Prince Arthur like it was yesterday, when in reality it would have been yesterday a week and two days ago. Not that that matters. The point is, as soon as I realized it was him, I wished it wasn't.

I was wandering on the castle grounds, hoping to get an idea of what The Once and Future King was like. He would be wearing the royal crest, first off. He would have well groomed, straight, golden hair with bangs long enough to cover his entire forehead, stopping at his eyebrows. On formal occasions, his bangs were slicked back and the rest of his hair tucked behind his ears. His face is said to be very attractive to the majority of females, with a complexion that's somehow strong and stern but all the while soft and elegant. His eyes are said to be a striking blue, like the ocean on a sunny day.

Needless to say, when Lancelot described this to me, I had to ask him, though I doubted it, if he was falling for the prince. To my relief, he said he only had eyes for a certain, special female that was already in his life. Eyes for the Dragon Lord who inspired him to take humanoid form and come out of his dark, remote cave. Eyes for she with dark curls, tanned skin, and warm brown eyes. Eyes for me. I smile everytime I even think of him saying things like that. He makes me feel more loved than anyone else ever could, even if he did send me to fulfil an impossible destiny.

Wow, I have a terrible habit of getting off subject. Where was I? Oh. Right… (I heave a sigh.)

The first things that caught my eye to think it was Arthur was the royal crest and the golden hair. Not that well groomed of hair, in my opinion, but then again he was in the middle of a heated battle, him against three knights at a time. I was surprised he could be winning such a battle (even if I knew I could), but then I considered that, if he was indeed Arthur, then he was trained from birth to be a knight. So, this really must have been Arthur.

Just one thing: wasn't Arthur supposed to be, I don't know, kind? Or was that my misconception? (Yes, unfortunately, a terrible misconception. I should have seen it coming - he was raised by Uther.)

This man was yelling at his knights, screaming that a kid with a twig could do more harm to his enemies. That they had the footwork of an injured, dancing monkey. Lastly: "I thought that my father gave me men, not a bunch of girls!"

I seethed at the last part. 'So you're implying that girl's are incapable of fighting?' I challenged mentally.

Looking at the knights, they had probably been vigorously training for at least a couple of hours. They were sweating so hard it leaked out of their armour. Most of them looked like they were about to pass out. There was no doubt that continuing the training would do them more harm than good. They needed rest.

This ill-behaved prince needed to be taught a lesson.

Without thinking, I barged into action, interrupting whatever else the prince had to say. "So you think that a woman can't handle a sword?" I yelled across the small field of grass.

The prince paused, before turning to look at me. I swallowed. 'Well, now that I've started, there's no turning back.' I started my way towards him.

"Who are you?" Prince Arthur exclaimed, running his fingers up through his long bangs and pushing them up out of his face until they stuck to the rest of his sweaty hair. I cursed mentally that such a rude man shouldn't have been so attractive, especially one who was doused in sweat. Maybe it was my weakness for long hair, or the fact that his face wasn't beat red like his knights'. But, nevertheless, I knew that what he looked like didn't really matter - I don't judge books by their covers.

"I am Guinevere of Ealdor, and I have been trained in swordplay by the very best. I'm positive that I could defeat you, one-on-one."

He scoffed and laughed arrogantly, flipping his sword in a circular motion in his hand. "Well, Guinevere of Ealdor, I am Arthur - Prince of Camelot. Unlucky for you, I never back down from a challenge. Someone hand her a sword."

A knight walks over to me, holding out his sword appropriately. I take it with my right hand and, with it, I do the same thing Arthur did with his sword. "If I win, you give your knights a break for the rest of the day," I declared.

Arthur raised his eyebrows and chuckled, doing more fancy work with his sword. "And if I win?"

I copied him, adding in some moves of my own to show off. "If you win, I will do anything you wish." I threw the sword up in the air and caught it with my right hand. "But, you're not going to." I stretched the sword out in front of me, close enough for his sword to touch the end of mine. This is how formal sword fights begin.

Arthur mirrored my sword toss, and his sword ended up in his left hand.

I smirked. Taking me lightly is a big mistake.

"I'll give you one chance to surrender, before this begins," Arthur told me, smirk on his face. "Do you take it?"

"Ha!" I laughed mockingly. "Not a chance."

Arthur shrugged. "Just don't blame me for not treating you like a lady if you're not going to act like one."

I narrowed my eyes and looked straight into his. I didn't look to hard though, because for a minute I thought I saw a soul, and I didn't want to deceive myself into thinking he had one.

Arthur's sword touched mine, and my reflex was instantaneous. I swooped down to the side and dashed towards him with my sword pointing at him only to be blocked. I jumped back and tried from a different angle. I was blocked again.

'He didn't seem to be this well coordinated when he was fighting against his knights!' I thought. 'Wait a second, could it be that he's left-handed?'

I decided to take a different approach: defend and look for openings. So, I went on the defense. We circled each other, neither of us finding an opening. That's when he lunged forward to attack. I easily blocked, but then another attack came. I managed to block one attack after another, each attack getting quicker, but there was no time to do anything but block. Eventually, the unthinkable happened - I was disarmed.

I instantly cursed at myself for losing grip. This wasn't like me - what on earth had me so rusty?

Prince Arthur shoved me onto the ground with his shoulder and, looming over me, pointed his sword right at my neck. I shuddered, not having experienced such an embarrassing defeat since before I could remember.

The prince laughed triumphantly. "Now, about that wager. You will pledge your loyalty to me, and obey my every command, lest ye be banished from Camelot. Which do you choose, Miss Guinevere?"

With a bitter tone, I pushed out a, "I will obey your every command, Your Highness."

"Very well. You shall be my personal servant from now on. Consider it an honor."

Moment's later, Arthur shouted once again at his knights, "Knights! Time for a break!"

I blinked in confusion, before deciding that Arthur was worn out from our battle. I chuckled smugly under my breath.

xXx

I moved into the servant's quarter's of the castle, a hallway away from the royal quarters, that very day. From then on, I had next to no free time, constantly tending to the spoiled prince's needs. I endured many insults about my inefficiency as a servant, and how I should have been honored to serve him. I did complain the whole time, but that was beside the point. I did all but dress and bathe him, as, taking into account his and mine own gender, that would be inappropriate. It's times like this when I thank Gaia that I'm a woman.

In the midst of a dreamless sleep, I was awakened last night by some brief, but repeating powerful surges of spirit energy nearby. I sensed that they were in the castle, and at every peak another soul left its vessel and returned to Gaia as spirit energy.

One thing was for sure: I had to do something. It was my destiny, whether I wanted it to be or not, to protect Prince Arthur. Of course, there was no guarantee this magical being would harm him, but as he was the leader of the knights, and the guards were dropping like flies, it was likely.

But how could I protect him? I'd have to use magic, which should only be last resort for obvious reasons. Physical weapons would do nothing against this being, unless they were enchanted. And even then, it would be taking a great risk to use a magical item, because there is no unenchanting it, and enchanted items are forbidden in Camelot.

'Wait a second, I can't get into trouble if no one knows that I'm the one casting magic. I can disguise myself with a transformation spell, and no one would see me transform because I would do it in the privacy of my bedroom. Then, I'll get rid of this magic caster and, if anyone tries to arrest me, I'll use magic to teleport back into my room and transform back into my original form.'

With that solved, I reached into Gaia, chanting 'Transmutare in alio' in my head as I imagined myself as an elderly man. I felt spirit energy running through my veins, and I knew the spell had worked.

Knowing it unwise to be seen leaving my room, I closed my eyes, mentally chanted 'Ianuae Magicae,' and focused on the tainted spirit energy that I could sense in the castle. When I opened my eyes, I saw before me a plump, middle-aged woman, standing in a corridor with two dead guards behind her. She had greying brunette hair and eyes so dark of brown they were almost black.

I sensed a presence in a hallway to my left and thanked Gaia that I was in a form in which nobody would recognize me, and that this person I sensed decided to stay still.

When the witch saw me, her eyes narrowed, and her hand stretched forward. Right as I chanted 'tueri' in my head, she intoned "Interficere!" Her usually fatal attack dissolved in an invisible wall in front of me.

The witch's dark eyes became wide. She repeated her spell once again, this time in a yell, but it had no affect.

Whoever was hiding in the hallway before was now running away from the two of us magic casters.

"Who are you?" the witch asked me, her voice nearly trembling. "And what do you want?"

I smirked. Perhaps she wasn't so powerful after all. She was likely intimidated that I could block a spell that she screamed without even parting my lips. Maybe she assumed that I didn't cast a spell at all. "I could ask you the same thing. What business do you have here?"

"I seek revenge against King Uther. He murdered my only son for practicing magic. All he did was practice some harmless spells, ones that helped the crops grow, but when Uther found out he took my son away from me. Now, I'll do the same thing to him. That demon of a king must suffer as I have suf-!"

"Sorry, but I can't let you do that," I interrupted her. I mentally screamed 'tueri' to add an extra layer to my barrier because I knew she wouldn't appreciate what I was telling her. "Actually, I'm not sorry, because - come on - doing to Uther what he did to you makes you just like him. Is that what your son would want? The answer is no, you buffoon."

Enraged, the witch screamed "Interficere!" so loud her voice was strained.

Her attack was useless against my freshly strengthened barrier. I stepped forward and my invisible shield moved with me.

The castle warning bell rung loudly. Ah, that explains where the "spy" ran off to.

The witch tried to run, but I cast 'rigescunt indutae.' It only slowed her down until I repeated it aloud, which was when she became completely still. My magic was weakening from overuse. Once I reached her, I placed my hand on her chest, in which was a soul connected to Gaia. I needed to sever that connection. "Ego denudabunt te magicae!" I yelled.

The witch let out an agonized scream, followed by a, "What have you done?!" She could no longer use magic.

I could sense many non-magical presences charging toward us, and one was getting very close. Well, at least the closest one is by himself, I reassured myself mentally.

I could have fled right then, but a tiny voice in my head held me back. It was the conscience Lancelot taught me to have. You just stripped a witch of magic, and if she stays here she will surely be executed. Sure, she was trying do something that would get in the way of your destiny, but really she's just a grieving mother. A mother should never have to bury her child.

Hand still on the witch's chest, I chanted "Ianuae Magicae" aloud and pictured the witch in a safe, small village far away from Camelot. And there she went.

I heaved a sigh, just moments before I felt a sword touching my back.

"Now, now, there is no honor in killing an unarmed man, especially from the back."

"There will be no need to kill you yet. If you do as I say, you'll get a fair trial." With his first word, I instantly recognised his voice.

"Arthur Pendragon," I spoke. It felt so nice to call him something other than 'Your Highness' and 'Sire'. "Is that any way to thank me for saving your life?"

"Excuse me?"

"May I turn around?" I inquired, very conscious of the sword pointing at my back.

The sword no longer touched me. "Try anything funny and I'll kill you before you can touch me."

I chuckled under my breath and turned around to face him. The way he held his sword told me he was prepared for me to attack.

"That witch meant to kill you, but I stopped her. She won't be here again anytime soon. Magic can be used for good, you know."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, but still in them shone something unreadable. It couldn't be hope…

"Why should I trust you?" he asked me.

"Well, you're not dead yet, that's a good sign," I muttered, raising an eyebrow.

He raised both of his glared at me, but then he raised his eyebrows in hesitation, looking into my eyes. "Do I know you?"

My heart jumped. 'Did he recognise me through my disguise? He can't have… It must be my personality. Or maybe my eyes - I should have changed my eye colour.

'Never mind that, I need to act confident,' I told myself. "Not yet," I told him. "But our destinies are tied. You are, like me, destined to bring peace to Albion."

"Is there not already peace between Albion's kingdoms?"

My expression turned serious and confident. "There will be no peace until the people are able to practice magic freely, without living in fear of their king."

Arthur shook his head, narrowing his eyes again. "My father is a great king. Magic corrupts the minds of men. He knows that, and that is why he has forbidden it."

I half-sighed, half-growled. "Albion is doomed," I murmured.

Behind me, a large group of guards entered the corridor.

Arthur pointed his sword at my chest. "Now you have nowhere to run."

I seethed, closing my eyes and picturing my room. "Ianuae Magicae," I chanted loudly.

When I was successfully teleported, I sent the spirit energy in my bloodstream back into Gaia and became my physical self again. Then, all the exhaustion from using so powerful of magic at once caught up with me. The transformation spell and the stripping of that witch's magic were especially draining. I had to constantly force all that spirit energy into the world through my soul for at least half of an hour. If that isn't exhausting, I don't know what is.

I stumbled onto my bed of straw covered in a sheet and a blanket and fell back into the lovely chambers of sleep.

xXx

I somehow woke up the next morning with time to spare, and that leads me to this very moment, in which I'm reflecting on all that has happened since I came to Camelot. And, of course, what brought me to Camelot.

"Lancelot," I mumble aloud, subconsciously. Then I cover my mouth, realizing that I just summoned the one I've been avoiding since I met Arthur.

And my beloved materializes before me. His tan skin glows in the morning sun pouring into the room from my window. His curly black hair reaches his shoulders, and his green eyes are like emeralds. Oh, how I've missed him.

I fling my arms around him, and he returns my embrace. When he loosens his grip around my waist, I do the same, and we look into each other's eyes each with a small smile on our lips. I lean forward and we kiss briefly yet sweetly, before Lancelot pulls his face away from my own, and we're looking each other in the eye once more. This time, his smile fades.

Lancelot chants, very quietly, "Nemo audiet me sed Guinevere. Nemo audiet Guinevere sed me." It's a spell that makes it so only I can hear him and only he can hear me.

"Why did you not summon me sooner?" he inquires. "I've been worried."

I bite my lip, avoiding his gaze. "I was worried, too…"

Lancelot's hand caresses my cheek, and his thumb tilts up my face. "Gwen?"

Our eyes meet, and I can't bare the sweet, worried look in his eyes. I heave a sigh, and step out of his touch.

I start pacing away from Lancelot. "You told me that Arthur was going to create a peaceful Albion," I remind him, before swiveling on my feet to face him with a frown. "I don't see that happening."

My beloved walks toward me with a reassuring smile. "You need not doubt your destiny. You must remember that not everything is as it seems."

I shake my head in exasperation "Arthur is… ugh! He's so disrespectful! It's like his life goal is to insult me!"

Lancelot nods. "I've had visions about this. So is it true that you're his new personal servant?"

I throw my head back in exasperation and nod.

"This is good," he encourages.

I bite my lip and look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

Lancelot grasps my hands. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with a spoiled prince, but the fact that he trusts you enough to offer you a position as his own personal servant means that Gaia has blessed you and your destiny. All I know is that you won't regret protecting him once he creates a peaceful Albion. One where we don't have to hide anymore. It's been prophesized ever since the day that Uther overthrew Camelot and passed that dreaded law, that Uther's only son would end Camelot's hunting of magical beings. And that you, The Last Dragon Lord, would protect him every step of the way. And my destiny, as the last living dragon I know of, is to help you help Arthur fulfil his destiny."

I take a deep breath. "You're right… But, the thing is, Arthur doesn't believe that magic should be allowed. Am I supposed to change his mind?"

"Maybe. Or maybe you need to get to know him better. I know you have a lot of weight on your shoulders right now, but if you think about it, so does Arthur. You two have a lot more in common than you think."

I want to rebut; but, when I think about it, I'm not so sure if Arthur's insults are random, or if I have been provoking them. After all, this isn't the first time I've had that constant bickering relationship with someone. I have a similar kind of relationship with my brother, Elyan - and I love him to death. The difference is the familiarity.

I pout. 'Gah, why do I have to have revelations I really don't want to have?'

Lancelot offers me a warm smile. Sometimes I feel like I'm an open book to him without me saying a word.

I can't help but chortle and return the smile. "Okay, I'm going to tolerate Arthur. For the sake of Albion."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you, fancyrebel, for your favorite and follow! If you could give me review, too, that would make me very happy. :) That goes to anyone reading this. Please enjoy!**

CHAPTER TWO

' _Okay, I'm not going to complain about or insult Arthur today,'_ I tell myself once Lancelot leaves. ' _Well… unless he_ really _deserves it.'_

I knock on Arthur's door, his breakfast in my hand.

"Yes?" the prince's voice calls.

I clear my throat. "I have your breakfast, Your Highness," I say without my usual sassy tone.

I hear footsteps toward the door, and then a pause. His aura is right by the door, but he's hesitating.

"Sire?" I query.

The door opens. "It's about time. Do you know what time it is?"

"I had a late start this morning, Sire. My apologies."

Blond eyebrows furrow and Arthur leans forward, studying me. "You _are_ Guinevere, aren't you?"

I sigh, my resolve already dissolving. "I decide to be nice to you and this is how you treat me?"

With that, he grins and chuckles. "Oh, so perhaps you aren't _always_ arrogant."

I scowl. "Excuse me, but _you're_ the arrogant one, _Sire_."

"Ah, but I have every reason to be arrogant. I'm the _prince_ of _Camelot_. And you, miss, are a peasant from the diminutive village of Ealdor."

I scoff, forcing the prince's breakfast tray into his hands and walk away from his room.

"Oh, come on, don't runaway. You're much prettier when you stay and put up a fight."

I don't reply, continuing to move in the opposite direction of his room.

"I command you to stay," Arthur calls after me in a more serious voice.

I stop in my tracks and look back at him. He's stepped just out of his room.

"You need to do my laundry, polish my armor, and muck out the stables. And the day's only just begun."

I take a deep breath. "Yes, _Sire_ ," I respond with a sarcastic smile.

xXx

It's dinner time, and it's my duty to keep everyone at the the table's cup full with wine or water at all times. Arthur usually asks for water, but tonight he goes for the wine. However, as always, Morgana wants water and Uther wants wine.

Morgana, Arthur's half sister and Uther's daughter, is exactly what you'd expect a lady of her standing to be like. She has perfectly groomed, wavy black hair that I'm sure she brushes in her free time. Her eyes are as blue as the rest of her family, only they more resemble Uther's than Arthur's. Both Uther and Morgana have icy blue eyes, while Arthur's eyes are ocean blue.

The main thing I've observed about Morgana is that she's a gossip. On my first night here, she thought Arthur wanted me as a… Ugh, I don't even want to think about it. And she was extremely blunt about it.

xxx

" _Your new servant is very beautiful, Arthur," she commented in a suggestive tone._

 _Arthur choked on his drink, and somehow I managed to stay silent. Arthur was much more respectable around his father, and in turn I feared Uther even more than I had to begin with._

" _I was shocked when I discovered you'd invited a woman you just met to be your personal servant. I'm curious, do you intend to make her your mistress?"_

 _That was when I choked - and I didn't have a drink._

" _Guinevere had the nerve to stand up to me when I was overworking my knights. She is very talented with the sword, and she fights honorably. I figured she could come in handy, someday."_

 _I blinked at Arthur in surprise but I didn't say anything._

 _Morgana nodded with a sly smile on her face, before winking at Arthur._

xxx

Let me tell you: Morgana is _crazy_.

King Uther excuses himself from the table, ripping me out of my daze. Just as I'm about to clear his plates, another maid does. I sigh in relief, check Arthur's and Morgana's glasses to find them full, and am absorbed back into my mind.

Uther. I've heard so many terrible stories about him, and I know they're all true, but when I first met him I realized just how thick some people's masks are. If I didn't know who he was, I'd think he was _civil_. It disgusts me to think about it. It disgusts me to be around him, knowing how much innocent blood is on his hands.

Uther has balding grey hair. He always has a guiltless expression on his face; but he also has a dark fire in his icy blue eyes, when magic is mentioned, that tells me he would kill me without hesitation if he knew I was a sorceress. It takes all I have, when around him, to ignore my fight or flight response.

Sadly enough, out of the Pendragon family, I'm glad that I'm stuck with Arthur.

I glance at Arthur to glare at him, just because I can (with Uther out of the room), but  
I find him looking at his sister. Morgana and Arthur are having a nonverbal conversation.

Morgana's eyes flicker to me, then back at Arthur. Arthur turns his gaze away. Morgana clears her throat, and Arthur turns his gaze back to her. Morgana raises an eyebrow and gives him an "Are you kidding?" look before Arthur throws his head back and sighs.

I don't want to want to know what they're talking about, but I have a feeling that their "conversation" has something to do with me, so I can't can't help but be curious. I try to think up an explanation. ' _Could it be about this morning?'_

"Excuse me, but it's time for me to retire to my chambers," Morgana declares politely. "Good night, Arthur."

"Good night, Morgana," Arthur replies dully.

Morgana raises from her chair, curtseys, and exits the room.

As the other female servant in the room clears Morgana's dishes, Arthur stands and nods at her. Then, he looks at me. "Guinevere. Please escort me to my chambers."

I bow and mumble, "Yes, Sire." Maybe I'll find out what Morgana was trying to get him to do.

I open keep the door open for him as I go through and, to my confusion, he thanks me. Something weird is going on.

As we make our way down the hallway, towards his chambers, Arthur begins, "I… appreciate that you've been showing more respect towards me than you did to begin with." I blink curiously. "I, in turn, have decided to do the same towards you. I think that it's in both of our best interests to… _try_ to get along with one another - or, at the very least, act civil towards each other."

That was not what I expected, not that I knew what to expect. I nod slowly. "I agree… If you respect me, then I will do the same to you."

Arthur heaves a sigh. "I fear that I may have forced you into becoming my servant, when really it should be your decision. I have been treating you more like a slave. You are no longer bound by our wager. If you wish to leave, then you may. Just remember that, if you stay - and behave - you will be treated with respect. Of course you'll still have your duties, but you'll also be paid for your services with room and board. The choice is yours."

I can't help but grin in pleasant surprise. I turn my whole body towards Arthur and stop in my tracks to look at him. "You _are_ Arthur, aren't you?"

Arthur chortles, pausing in his steps. "I am. Maybe first impressions can be deceiving."

I chuckle and look away, continuing to walk forward. "Maybe."

When we turn a corner and I spot a familiar face standing just in front of my room.

"Lancelot!" I run forward and embrace him. "What are you doing here?"

Tan cheeks smile softly. "I figured you'd be off work right about now, and I thought we could go for a walk."

I smile at him fondly before exclaiming, "Oh, right!" ' _I forgot about Arthur!_ ' I turn to the prince and gesture at Lancelot. "This is Lancelot, my lover." I look at Lancelot and gesture to Arthur. "Lancelot, this is Prince Arthur."

Lancelot bows. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

Prince Arthur nods (a casual bow) with a strangely serious expression on his face. Then, he turns to me. "You have the rest of the night and tomorrow off to consider your options. I'd like a decision the next morning."

I blink in confusion, before curtsying. "Yes, Sire. Thank you, Sire."

Once Arthur leaves, I look at Lancelot, expecting his usual smile. Instead, I see grim expression.

I cup his cheek. "Lance?"

His hand rests over mine. "Let us leave."

Lancelot's hand falls to his side, while my hand follows it and takes hold of it. When he doesn't grip my hand, I squeeze his. He returns the gesture, and I'm satisfied enough not to pry while in ears reach of others.

He leads me out of the castle, into the forest nearby. In about five minutes, we reach the lake. No one's around, likely due to the hour.

Lancelot releases my hand and looks up at the clear sky. "It's a nice night," he mumbles. His tone of voice is solemn, nothing like his words.

I step in front of him and put a hand on each of his shoulders. "Lancelot, tell me, what's wrong?" I ask him worriedly.

Lancelot sighs. "Listen carefully." He hesitates. "I have been in this form for the last four years, constantly using my magic to hold it. My kind were the first to use magic, and our magic is the most powerful. However, as you experienced last night, transformation magic is tiring. Imagine holding the form of a _different species_ for four years straight. Even for me, a dragon, it is tiring. I have endured it for this long only to be with you. And now, I'm afraid, I must return to my natural form."

My hands drop to my sides. "Why haven't I heard of this before now?"

"I warned you, when you convinced me to take this form, that it could not last forever."

I shudder. "Yes, _four years ago_. I was but _fourteen_. You've given me no sign since then!"

"I have been strong for you, _Guinevere_ , but now we can no longer be together romantically." I gasp, my heart shattering into pieces. How could he say that? "Your destiny is to be with someone else… Your family has helped hide me from Uther, and I hope that by serving you have have paid some of that debt. And I will-"

" _Debt?!"_ I scream, enraged and heartbroken. " _That's_ what this is to you, a way to repay your _debt_?!"

"Nothing I've ever told you has been a lie. I love you dearly, but we are of different species. Nothing can come out of a romance between us."

My eyebrows furrow and tears stream down my cheeks. My voice loud but broken, I ask, "So why did you ever let our relationship blossom?!" My heart is beating hard and fast. I'm shaking, and I feel like I'm going to explode. I've never felt such a headache. "Why did you allow every kiss we've shared, every… Gah!"

Everything goes black.

When I come to, I'm on the ground, straddling Lancelot and holding him in a constricting embrace. I'm sobbing.

I can't bring myself to let go of him until I force my breaths to slow down, and mentally cast ' _Mitescere,'_ a soothing spell, on myself. When I'm calm enough to move my stiff arms away from him and pull back, I notice a large black and purple splotch on his face. Oh Gaia, I must have punched him. I don't think I've ever managed to land a punch on him - I guess it's true that he's weakening…

I shudder. "I'm sorry…" I mumble. "I'm not going to force you to stay."

As I start to get up, Lancelot's hand takes hold of my sleeve. I look at him with a sorrowful expression.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry, too," he tells me in a sincere, apologetic tone. "If you ever need me… You're still my summoner. You're still _The Last Dragon Lord._ I'll do what I can to help you fulfill your destiny."

I scoff halfheartedly. "I don't care about my stupid destiny," I drone. "The whole world can burn for all I care."

"Ever since your parents died," Lancelot begins in a soft, even tone. I release a growl from deep in my throat and rise to a standing position as he continues, "You've tried to shut the world out. You've lied to everyone, including yourself, saying that you don't think anything matters. I have mattered to you and Elyan has mattered to you, but no one else has - not even yourself." I start to leave, but I feel a tug on my soul from Gaia telling me to listen, and I'm forced to stay."But, Guinevere, when I first met you, you had such a great heart. And I know it's still in there, hidden beneath that front you put up. It's been four years since they died, and you're still grieving. And you may never stop. But you'll feel so much better if you learn to let people in again, if you let yourself feel your emotions instead of shoving them inside of you or let them out as anger."

I whimper. "Are you trying to _destroy me_ with your _words_?"

"I don't want to hurt you. But I do want to break down that wall of yours, so you can rediscover yourself."

I scoff. "You obviously don't know me as well as you think you do," I retort, my voice coarse. "If you think that I could ever trust anyone again, especially after _this_ , then you are gravely mistaken."

When I step away from Lancelot and the lake, Lancelot calls after me, his voice solemn, "One last thing."

I don't know if I want to run away or break down and sob, so I do neither. I turn towards my former lover to see him holding out a necklace. The Necklace of Revelation.

"I want you to have this. With this, you'll see visions of the past, present, and future. Don't worry, no one will know it's enchanted."

I could tell him that I already knew all of what he just said, but instead I take the necklace wordlessly and mutter "Ianuae Magicae" as I picture my room in the castle.

This is going to be a long night.

xXx

I spend hours replaying tonight's events in my head over and over, unable to sleep. The only progress I've made is that I've stopped crying.

I study the necklace between my fingers. Why would Lancelot give me this? Does he think that visions will inspire me? Or did he have a vision that made him decide to do this that he wants me to see? So many questions, and only one way to answer them.

' _Man up, Gwen_ ,' I tell myself.

Taking a deep breath, I put the necklace around my neck.

xxx

 _I'm in a room; I think it's Morgana's chambers. It smells like lavender. I sense that this vision is from earlier today._

 _Morgana is sitting on the stool by her vanity, brushing her hair. Arthur is pacing the length of the vanity behind her._

" _I can't get her out of my head. Everything she does drives me crazy!" he exclaims._

'Why on Earth am I seeing a vision of a lovesick Arthur?'

 _Morgana smiles. "It looks like true love is in the works."_

 _Arthur breathes in deeply, before letting out a groaning sigh. "She's just a servant."_ 'Arthur? Lovesick over a _servant_?' " _An incompetent one at that. But when I'm around her, I feel… alive. I call her all these insults, right to her face, and she throws them right back at me." '_ Oh Gaia. He's talking about me!' " _I've never met such a strong, confident woman. Um… not that you aren't both, it's just…"_

" _I've taken no offense," Morgana assures. "This has been going on for over a week; what's new that has you complaining now?"_

 _Arthur exhales audibly. "This morning, she tried to be polite to me. But, foolishly, I talked down on her and she started mouthing me again. This verbal war has been going on since I met her. I just wish… I wish I hadn't been such an arse, this morning. Maybe that could have been the beginning of a civil relationship. Maybe even a friendship."_

 _Morgana chuckles. "Why not set your wishes higher?"_

 _Arthur stops pacing to give Morgana a judging expression. "I'm pretty sure she hates me! I've been branded a fool for not punishing her, or even letting other people punish her, for her insolence towards me."_

" _That makes sense; if my servant treated me like that I'd have her executed. But the question is: if she hates you, why does she put up with you?"_

 _Arthur groans and continues pacing. "She lost a wager, she has to do everything I say."_

" _But she could always run away, with all the freedom you've been giving her. There must be something keeping her here. So, why not treat her as an equal, as she's been demanding to be treated? Why not tell her she's no longer bound by the wager and see if she stays? Which I know she will."_

 _Arthur stops in his tracks, holding up his finger and opening his mouth to say something. Then, he drops and relaxes his hand before agreeing, "You know, that isn't such a bad idea."_

 _Morgana grins and looks back at the mirror. "You're welcome."_

 _Arthur chuckles, touching his half-sister's shoulder. "Thank you, Morgana."_

xxx

I'm pulled back into my small, near empty room on my straw bed. I take a deep breath.

So, according to this vision, Arthur is… _infatuated_ with me. Well isn't that a strange, unneeded, kind of gross surprise.

Did Lancelot have this vision while it was happening? " _Your destiny is to be with someone else,"_ he said. He must have meant Arthur.

I seethe. So I'm destined to have the most selfish, spoiled lover anyone could possibly have. Isn't that lovely? Not that I'm not going to let that happen. I'm just starting to tolerate Arthur, there's no way I'm going to ever become his lover.


End file.
